Chapter 62.

Both of them were buried waist-deep in soil and debris, a sprawling tree with dense branches lying horizontally above them.

At first, Cui Ci thought of moving the tree out of the way. But then he saw it—a branch, barely two fingers thick, had pierced straight into Xue Shu’s back. Blood had soaked the wood, staining it a dark, sinister red, while the dried edges around the wound had already turned black.

No one could tell how deep the branch had gone. He didn’t dare touch it recklessly. Instead, he ordered someone to fetch a saw to cut through the branch first, while others started clearing the dirt and rubble below.

Thankfully, it had been raining nonstop these past few days. The soil hadn’t compacted yet, making it easier to dig through.

Once the branch was sawed off and the massive tree shifted, they carefully prepared to lift the injured men.

Yin Chengyu, having been trapped in darkness for so long, was blindfolded to protect his eyes from the harsh light outside. Cui Ci initially intended to send him up first, but Yin Chengyu insisted otherwise. Begrudgingly, the group moved to extract Xue Shu first. Yet, Xue Shu’s arms were locked tightly around Yin Chengyu like iron chains.

None of the rescuers dared to pry him off forcefully. Stuck in a bind, they turned back to Yin Chengyu for guidance.

Calmly, he reached out, patting Xue Shu’s arm. Leaning close to his ear, he murmured in a low, steady tone, “It’s safe now. Let go of me.”

Whether Xue Shu understood or not was unclear, but when Yin Chengyu reached for his hands again, he loosened his grip.

Finally, the rescuers lifted him with great care, placing him onto a stretcher and rushing him to a makeshift medical tent.

Yin Chengyu was brought out afterward. A sharp rock had slashed into his right side, leaving a deep gash, but it wasn’t fatal. His wound had already been cleaned and dressed. Though pale and weak, his mind was still sharp.

As they carried him to the tent, a sudden thought struck him. He called Cui Ci over, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. “Follow Xue Shu closely. If he needs someone to attend to him personally, make sure it’s you. Don’t let anyone else near.”

Though confused by the order, Cui Ci obeyed without question, shadowing Xue Shu’s every move.

*

When Yin Chengyu opened his eyes, it was already the next day.

Outside, the rain still pounded down relentlessly, as if the heavens were determined to make up for an entire season of missed storms. Large drops beat against the tent’s roof, the sound resembling a steady, relentless drumbeat. On any other day, the noise might have annoyed him, but today, it brought a strange sense of calm.

At least they were still alive to hear it.

His body had been cleaned, his wounds carefully treated and wrapped. When he moved, pain flared along his side and his right hand, but it was manageable. Slowly, he pushed himself up, the motion alerting a eunuch waiting just beyond the screen.

The young man hurried in—a familiar face, one of Xue Shu’s usual attendants. “Your Highness, are you in pain? Shall I call the doctor?”

“No need,” Yin Chengyu replied hoarsely, his throat dry and rough. “Just bring me water.”

A cup of warm tea was quickly brought to him, the heat soothing his parched throat. After drinking, he instructed the eunuch to summon Cui Ci.

Not long after, Cui Ci arrived.

Yin Chengyu, now dressed and sitting against a Luohan couch for support, looked every bit the picture of weariness and authority. A charcoal brazier burned at his feet, warding off the damp chill that clung to the air.

“How is Xue Shu?”

“The doctor managed to remove the branch from his back. Luckily, his armor took most of the impact, and the branch didn’t penetrate too deeply. His internal organs were unharmed. He was treated with medicine and acupuncture yesterday,” Cui Ci said, hesitating slightly before continuing. “But his injuries are severe. He only regained consciousness briefly before falling back into a coma. The doctor said it’s up to him to endure now. If he doesn’t develop a fever tonight, he’ll be out of danger.”

Yin Chengyu nodded, his expression unreadable as he lowered his gaze. “You’ve been taking care of him yourself?”

The question sent a sharp jolt through Cui Ci’s chest. His voice tightened as he answered, “Yes.”

When Yin Chengyu had ordered him to stay by Xue Shu’s side the previous day, he hadn’t understood the reasoning. But when he cleaned Xue Shu’s wounds, the truth became clear.

Some things were better left unspoken, even if he already knew.

When the master inquires, it’s best not to utter even a single unnecessary word.

That’s why, after giving his answer, he bowed respectfully, keeping his head low and his mouth shut—he didn’t add a syllable more than necessary.

Yin Chengyu studied him for a long moment, noting his tension but also his composure. Pleased, he gave a faint nod. “Take good care of him. Handle things as you always have—nothing more, nothing less.”

The words were subtle, but Cui Ci understood perfectly.

“Rest assured, Your Highness. I won’t fail you.”

Only then did Yin Chengyu dismiss him. Barely catching his breath, a eunuch hurried in to announce more visitors: the Left Minister of Administration, the Vice Magistrate of Qingzhou, and the Assistant Magistrate.

Earlier, due to the embezzlement scandal surrounding disaster relief grain, the Governor of Shandong and the Magistrate of Qingzhou had been imprisoned. No replacements had been appointed yet when an earthquake struck. With the situation urgent, authority temporarily fell to the acting officials.

Shandong had yet to recover from famine and now faced another calamity—countless dead and injured. And just when everything was falling apart, the Crown Prince had gone missing for three days and was unconscious for another.

The three officials, like ants on a hot pan, were desperate for solutions.

Upon hearing that the Crown Prince had regained consciousness, they rushed to see him—both to offer their regards and to report the dire situation in Shandong. They needed his guidance to navigate the crisis.

Yin Chengyu immediately understood their urgency. After granting them seats, he wasted no time and got straight to the point.

“What regions have been affected? Have the numbers of the victims been accurately calculated?”

The Left Minister, Qian Bo, rose and clasped his hands respectfully. “The earthquake’s epicenter was at Fuhu Ridge in Qingzhou, with Yidu City at its heart. The most severely affected areas are Changle, Shouguang, and Linqu. Outside Qingzhou, only neighboring Jinan was impacted. Roughly 20,000 buildings have collapsed, and preliminary estimates suggest 110,000 to 120,000 victims. But the specifics—there wasn’t enough time to get precise numbers.”

“A famine unresolved and now an earthquake. The people are suffering. Has disaster relief begun?”

“The reclaimed disaster relief grain, along with borrowed stock from nearby warehouses, amounts to just over 16,000 shi. All of it has been distributed to the victims. But this disaster—human greed followed by heaven’s wrath—has left too many in need. We’re short by half. With Your Highness still in Shandong, we dared not report this to the capital without your approval…”

Ordinarily, a natural disaster would prompt local officials to submit a memorial to the court. The Ministry of Revenue would then verify the situation and allocate relief funds and supplies.

But with the Governor imprisoned and the Crown Prince present, none of the acting officials dared take the initiative without his consent.

Yin Chengyu paused in thought, then called for paper and ink. Right there, he drafted an edict. “The disaster in Shandong is severe. Provide relief first, report later. Dispatch a messenger to the capital on horseback immediately. Use water routes to divert imperial grain to the people as a loan, to be repaid after a bountiful harvest.”

“Your Highness’s benevolence is unmatched!” Qian Bo’s face lit up. The imperial grain would be a lifeline for Shandong.

“Beyond disaster relief, ensure the swift collection and burial of the dead. Take all necessary measures to prevent disease and flooding. The earthquake is calamity enough—any further setbacks, and the people won’t survive.”

Shandong was no stranger to calamities, plagued year after year by either floods or droughts, often accompanied by famine and disease. This year had been especially cruel—spring and summer brought drought and locusts, leaving fields barren. Then autumn arrived with unrelenting rain.

Yin Chengyu feared that prolonged rains would lead to floods and epidemics.

His concerns mirrored those of the officials. Seeing that he was already thinking ahead, they didn’t rush to leave. Instead, they presented their disaster prevention plans for his input.

Having managed water and disease control in Shandong years ago, Yin Chengyu was no stranger to these challenges. He spent half the day discussing and refining the plans with Qian Bo and his companions until every detail was accounted for.

By the time they departed with the finalized edict and disaster management outline, it was already the end of the evening hour.

The rain outside had eased, but the sky remained grim, heavy with leaden clouds. There was no telling when it would clear.

Exhaling wearily, Yin Chengyu rubbed his temples, feeling the day’s exhaustion settle into his bones. Only then did he rise and head to check on Xue Shu.

Just as he stepped out, a eunuch hurried in with a tray of food. “Your Highness hasn’t eaten yet.”

“Leave it there. I’ll eat when I return.”

Xue Shu’s tent wasn’t far from his main quarters. Yin Chengyu didn’t let anyone follow, taking only an umbrella as he made his way through the rain.

As he entered the tent, he found Ying Hongxue and He Shan on their way out.

The two froze briefly at the sight of him but quickly regained composure and bowed.

Yin Chengyu hadn’t seen Ying Hongxue the day before—his eyes had been bandaged. He only knew from Cui Ci’s report that, after the earthquake, Ying Hongxue and He Shan had brought 5,000 troops from the Hongying Red Army to assist.

He studied Ying Hongxue closely, his sharp gaze tracing the delicate contours of her features. Something flickered in her brow and eyes—a familiar shadow, one he couldn’t ignore. His voice softened, the edge dulled by recognition. “I was worried I’d found the wrong person, but it seems I was overthinking. He looks a lot like you.”

Ying Hongxue glanced at him in surprise, the prince’s sudden shift in demeanor catching her off guard. His tone didn’t match the man she’d heard stories about. Still, she kept her head bowed, her voice steady and measured. “It’s only natural. We’re siblings, born of the same mother.”

Yin Chengyu nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing with intent. “Have you seen him yet? Is Xue Shu awake?”

“Not yet,” she replied, her voice tinged with worry. “The doctor said he needs rest. If he makes it through tonight, he should recover fully.”

“Then I’ll go check on him.” Yin Chengyu’s tone left no room for argument. He gave the pair a faint nod and strode purposefully toward the inner chambers. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

Ying Hongxue and He Shan exchanged a look before heading outside.

“Who’d have thought the Crown Prince would be this approachable?” He Shan said quietly, holding up an oil-paper umbrella against the drizzle as they walked.

Ying Hongxue shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of her lips curling into a derisive smirk. “Approachable? Don’t let the act fool you. Anyone in power knows how to wear a mask. Besides, we’ve been useful to him. A little courtesy isn’t out of the ordinary.” Her voice dropped, laced with caution. “The prince may seem harmless now, but we can’t afford to trust him. Not completely. The Hongying Red Army is safe for now, but that could change. Quietly send word to our brothers. Tell them to scatter, just in case.”

He Shan nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. The court’s hands were rarely clean.

As their voices faded into the distance, the inside of the tent fell silent. Yin Chengyu dismissed the attendants with a flick of his wrist, leaving only himself and the unconscious Xue Shu. He settled into a chair by the bedside, his sharp features softened by the flickering lantern light.

Xue Shu lay motionless, his body stripped of its grime and bandaged with care. Even his faint stubble had been shaved clean, leaving a sharp, almost ascetic elegance to his pale face. Despite the fragility, there was a quiet strength in the way his features held, as though even in unconsciousness, he was bracing against the world.

The prince stared at him for a long while, his thoughts unraveling like threads. Memories surged forward, yet they no longer stirred the old bitterness. The anger, the frustration—it had always been a mask for something deeper. Something he hadn’t wanted to admit.

Five years.

Five long years of tangled emotions, too twisted to untangle with mere words.

Love and hatred had long since blended into something else—something more primal, more consuming. They were both too proud, too stubborn. Every step forward was checked by hesitation, by fear of the unknown. Neither dared to drop the blade first, though neither truly wanted to draw blood.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze dropped, his hand hovering above Xue Shu’s face before lightly tracing the curve of his strong brow. His fingers lingered at his dry lips, the touch achingly soft.

“When you wake,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, “I won’t be angry anymore.”

———Author’s Note: The drama continues—stay tuned for more.